"There are eight of them, I think." "I see figures moving there," Dave answered.

Then, in a low voice, the deputy instructed the engineers on each side of him.
"I see half a dozen more figures---heads, rather---showing just at the summit line of the rock itself," went on Reade.
"Yes; I make 'em," answered Fulsbee, after a long, keen look.
Again more instructions were given to the engineers.
"Say, I've _got_ to have a rifle," insisted Harry nervously.
"You know, I always have been 'cracked, on target shooting.

This is the best practical chance that I'll ever have." "You'll have to wait your turn, Harry," Tom urged soothingly.
"My turn ?" "Yes; wait until one of our fellows is badly hit.

Then you can take up his rifle and move into his place on the line.

When you're hit, then I can have the rifle." Hazelton made a face, though he said nothing.
Meanwhile Fulsbee's assistant, the man who had driven the wagon into camp, stood silent, motionless, behind the canvas-covered object in the bushes just behind the engineer's fighting line.
"Now, if one of you galoots dares to fire before he gets the word," sounded Dave Fulsbee's warning voice in the ominous calm that followed, "I'll snatch the offender out of the line and give him a good, sound spanking.